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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944446">Unbreakable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcane_illusions/pseuds/arcane_illusions'>arcane_illusions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Growing Up, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mentions Fred's Death, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Nostalgia, POV Second Person, Post-War, Ron is a bit OOC, The Golden Trio, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter), Time Skips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcane_illusions/pseuds/arcane_illusions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You've grown up. You've come so far from being eleven-years-old and bickering over studying, and now you've built a world your children can grow up in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley &amp; Rose Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>You're My Best Friend</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unbreakable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DA_Friendship">DA_Friendship</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DA_Friendship/profile">You're My Best Friend flash fiction competition</a> on the Dumbledore's Armada discord.<br/>Prompt: The Great Lake</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Would you stop that, Ronald?” Hermione snaps, exasperation bleeding into her voice. “Our exams are soon. We need to study.”</p><p> </p><p>You ignore her, staring off into the distance at a group of fifth years splashing around in the Black Lake and flinging water at each other. They’re enjoying themselves, blowing off some steam, temporarily unconcerned about their O.W.L.s, and you wish you were one of them.</p><p> </p><p>You aren’t the only one staring — all along the shore and the stretch of grass behind it, the rest of the first years are scattered with a similar setup as yours. Books open, lips moving, and wands moving in series of movements. But occasionally there’s a longing glance towards the sparkling water, reflecting the warm May sunshine. </p><p> </p><p>You drag your gaze away as Hermione mutters irritably under her breath. Next to her, Harry is doing a slightly better job at appeasing her, his eyes on his book, but his hands keep jumping up to his temple and absently brushing his scar.</p><p> </p><p>His scar, a nametag, a brand, a reminder that he is not quite like the rest of his classmates. Hell, he’d ridden bareback on a troll and been the youngest Seeker in a century and fought off You-Know-Who with his bare hands. People gawk at him with open awe and ask him for autographs and marvel at his accomplishments.</p><p> </p><p>But to you, he’s just Harry, your best mate.</p><p> </p><p>“Ronald,” Hermione hisses, “I swear to Merlin if you don’t stop staring at them, I’ll —”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll what?” you interject, aggravation flaring in your stomach. “Come off it, Hermione, we’ve been studying all morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry lets out a quiet moan at the thought of another row, but you’re too invested to stop. Hermione bristles. “Ronald Weasley, I —”</p><p> </p><p>As she launches into a tirade, you let her high-pitched, whiny voice fade into the background and stare at the lake again, the merry fifth-years, with more hunger than before.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, how you wish you could join them.</p><hr/><p>Seven years later, everything is different.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s hand slides into yours, and Harry comes up to your left, and the three of you leave the hospital wing. The sight of blood still makes you feel nauseous, even though you’ve seen more than you should have over the last seven years. Even though you’d taken a proper bath and scrubbed yourself clean, the first time in ages, the blood remains like an invisible stain on your body. </p><p> </p><p>You’ve won a war, but it feels an awful lot like you’ve lost. Your brother is dead — Fred, who’d been a source of light and laughter, who’d died laughing — and it feels like you’ve lost everything. And there are more. You are not the only one grieving. </p><p> </p><p>Harry walks on your left, his footsteps dragging like he’s trudging through mud. You haven’t seen him look this defeated in, well, years. He’d always been a pillar, a beacon of hope for an entire world since he was a one-year-old, and you can’t imagine bearing that kind of burden by yourself. But Harry’s always been strong.</p><p> </p><p>To your right, Hermione’s footsteps are surer and her lips are pursed, indicating that she’s deep in thought about something. Her eyes are emotionless, her face expressionless, and you know she’s trying to maintain a facade of some sort — until she speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go outside,” she says abruptly. </p><p> </p><p>Neither of you argues — neither of you wants to — and you change course, heading for the entrance hall and the grand double doors leading to something out of a storybook. The sun blazes high in the sky, the grass is green and lush, and it doesn’t look like a war was fought on these grounds. No, the true destruction lies inside.</p><p> </p><p>The house-elves must’ve worked all night to scour all the traces, but you don’t point that out.</p><p> </p><p>As if it was instinct, the three of you draw close to the Great Lake, all the way to the edge of the glistening water. The water laps dangerously close to your shoes, and you watch it for a moment, marveling at how peaceful it is. How serene it is, even though it had witnessed so much.</p><p> </p><p>How it has always been like this.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” you say carefully, squeezing Hermione’s hand, “do you remember our first year? We sat over there —” with your free hand, you point to the spot “— and you and I rowed, remember? And Harry was upset with both of us for behaving like prats.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse you, I wasn’t being a prat,” Hermione huffs. “You were a prat for not studying when there were exams.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still passed, didn’t I?” You shrug, kicking a stone and smiling to yourself. The stone rolls into the water, never to be seen again.</p><p> </p><p>Harry chuckles, finally emerging from whatever depressive state he’d submerged himself in. “I see some things haven’t changed since then,” he teases. “You still bicker like petulant first-years.”</p><p> </p><p>Rather than feeling resentful, Harry’s words make you feel nostalgic, but you don’t want to be the one to dissolve the mood. “And you still refuse to take my side, git,” you retort. </p><p> </p><p>Harry glances at Hermione helplessly. “I tried to remain neutral, mate,” he said solemnly. “I didn’t want to get between two forces of nature. I thought you’d tear the world to shreds, and I’d have fun watching.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Are you saying that we were your entertainment?” you bellow. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Hermione is wheezing beside you, trying to contain her laughter. “<em> Boys, </em>” she manages to say between choking gasps of laughter. “You lot are hypocrites, did I ever tell you? Especially you, Ronald Weasley. You have to be the thickest person I’ve ever met.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s like the winds have shifted, and now you’re facing another battle — a different kind of war, with your best mates, but it’s a war you’d much rather fight than the one you have fought.</p><hr/><p>Years later, you stand on the shore again, the lake lapping at your toes, the scent of salt permeating the air. You’ve got a baby cradled in your arms, a girl with brilliant red hair like yours, and she’s got bright blue eyes like yours, but there’s a measure of intelligence in them as she stares up at you, wide-eyed, that could only belong to her mother. </p><p> </p><p>Harry stands to your left, cradling his son, a boy who is the spitting image of his father, but without the lightning bolt scar. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione presses her shoulder into yours. She looks exhausted, but she’s steady on her feet, and you remain motionless as she wraps an arm around your waist. </p><p> </p><p>You think about the last time you were all here, except three has become five, and the two who carry a piece of each of you can grow up in the future you fought for. </p><p> </p><p>“I want to say something,” you say, clearing your throat, “and it’s going to be incredibly cheesy, but I’m a dad now. One of us needs to be the embarrassingly cheesy one in the family.” Hermione sighs and Harry winks at him.</p><p> </p><p>Without hesitating, you plow ahead. “I’m so glad that I met you both all those years ago,” you say. “Blimey, if I hadn’t let you sit in my compartment…” You gesture to Harry. “Or you had run into a different carriage.” You glance at your wife, who smiles softly. “Imagine how different things would have been.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s arm tightens around your waist as Harry nods vehemently. “If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have survived all the things I did without you two to have my back,” he says quietly. To Hermione, he adds jokingly, “And imagine if I hadn’t had you to bail me out with your genius.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione grins. “Most of it was sheer, dumb luck when I wasn’t there.”</p><p> </p><p>You laugh. “What am I, chopped liver?”</p><p> </p><p>“I meant that about both of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s eyes are darting between yours and Hermione’s, anticipating another row, but you don’t oblige him. “I was trying to be all sappy,” you say, “and say that I can’t believe we’ve made it this far, that we’ve grown up.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of them sober at once, undoubtedly remembering the intervening years. “Yeah,” Hermione murmurs, “who would’ve thought we’d have stayed friends for this long?”</p><p> </p><p>“Voldemort couldn’t break us,” you declare fearlessly. “No one can. We’ll have our issues, sure, but it’s nothing we can’t endure.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s looking at you oddly. “I had no idea you were so...philosophical.”</p><p> </p><p>“Believe me, neither did I,” you reply, smirking, and Hermione’s giggle indicates her agreement. “But seriously, all the people we’ve lost...all the things we’ve seen...I’m lucky I could be with you guys. This is something legendary, if you will. Something everyone will remember.”</p><p> </p><p>“Legendary,” Harry echoes. “That’s one way of putting it. Thanks for everything, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Hermione says, but she’s not looking at you or Harry, but instead at the squirming bundle in your arms. You too look at Rose and feel a surge of warmth, rivaling the sunshine.</p><p> </p><p>You know you couldn’t have imagined this reality when you were eleven, but you can imagine it now — it’s bursting to life before your eyes, and it’s never been more beautiful.</p><p>
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